The Resurrection of Revan
by Kallamae
Summary: A story of Revan's return to darkness with each chapter from a different point of view. Now complete with Chapter 5! Malak saw Revan's rise and fall as a hero and villain. He watched her die and now he'll witness her resurrection.
1. Sith Master

The Sith Master's thick-soled boot slammed into the Jedi's jaw sending her stumbling back two steps in an attempt keep her balance. The satisfaction of the impact made his lips curl back over yellowed teeth in what was intended as a feral grin. This fight would hardly be enough of a challenge to be considered fun, but he was resolved to enjoy it as much as he could.

The young blue Twi'lek girl was already locked deep in a stasis field. Her blaster rifle pointed uselessly at the ceiling. One small hand was locked in a futile attempt to reach one of the grenades hanging from her belt. The bolts from the duel blasters of the Republic soldier were more of an annoyance than an actual threat. They were easily deflected by the brilliant red streaks of his lightsaber's defensive dance. And his last opponent was a mere Jedi Padawan, one who must have been very weak to have been unable to pass the trials at such a mature age.

The Jedi woman gingerly touched her fingers to her lip and examined them. Her tongue slowly inspected the area for the tell-tale coppery taste of blood.

There wasn't any.

"You can't hurt me," she smiled. "I'm already dead." Her voice was soft. There was no malice in it, but something in her tone and the disturbing grin that didn't reach her hollow eyes sent a shiver through him.

Her blue blade snapped to life as she sent the Force barreling into him. He flew backwards into the large metal containers that lined the wall. Canisters crashed around him as he fell in an undignified heap. For a few moments, he lost control of his lightsaber and blaster shots burned through his robes narrowly missing flesh. Beneath his dark mask, his face burned with the hot flush of embarrassment. He would not be knocked down again by an over-aged Padawan.

He poured the anger of his humiliation into a powerful burst of lightning. Blue arcs leapt from his crooked fingers toward the insufferable Jedi woman. She caught the attack on her lightsaber. With both hands gripping the hilt of her weapons and her biceps bulging with the strain, she fought against his attack. Electricity crackled along the length of the blade.

The Sith Master pushed harder. His frustration and lust for violence fueled the assault. The lightning surged hotter and more powerful than ever before. He could feel it burning the tips of his fingers, but fed the pain into his resolve. This Jedi would fall.

With her head bowed away from the clash of Force lightning against her lightsaber, she continued to fight the onslaught. The Sith Master screamed knowing he was nearing the limits of his endurance. Just as he began to fear the Jedi woman would defeat his attack, her lightsaber failed. The crystal in her weapon fractured under the excessive charge and sent sparks arcing up her arm.

He cried out in conceit to hide his relief. She responded by throwing the now useless bit of metal at him.

Once more in control of the fight, the Sith Master deflected the soldier's renewed blaster fire in the Jedi's direction. He laughed as one of the deflected bolts grazed her arm. It burned through the coarse fabric of her Jedi robes and left a charred furrow in her bicep. He laughed even harder as she punished the soldier for the injury using the Force to send the man staggering back into the doorframe.

The blaster fire stopped. The soldier turned his attention instead toward the Twi'lek, moving protectively toward the girl as she struggled her way out of the stasis field. The man placed a firm hand over her rifle pushing the muzzle toward the floor before she had a chance to fire.

Taking full advantage of their defenselessness, the Sith Master sent his lightsaber spinning towards the girl and soldier. The Jedi woman hurled her own burst of lightning at him. His command of the Force shielded him from the attack and he took great pleasure in the looks of horror that crossed her companions' faces.

His enjoyment was cut short as he noticed his red lightsaber spinning in the air unable to progress any further towards its intended victims. The woman had attempted to commandeer the weapon.

The red blade wavered in the charged air between the Sith Master and the Jedi as they fought for control. Each stood with a hand outstretched, concentration etched into their faces. The Force tug-of-war continued as the soldier and girl stood watching, unwilling to risk firing their own weapons.

The Sith Master reconsidered the nuisance of a woman before him. Something wasn't right. She was too strong for a mere Padawan, yet she didn't exude the irritating calm or self-proclaimed righteousness of the Jedi Knights and their Masters. She seemed to be hidden somehow in the shadows of the Force, drawing on a power that he couldn't reach. Yet, there was something there that felt familiar.

The lightsaber inched closer to him and he abandoned his considerations of the Jedi woman to refocus his efforts on securing the weapon.

He realized his mistake at the same time his memory produced the answer to her familiarity. "Revan," he gasped as the red blade shot through him. She had let him struggle to pull it toward him counting on his power to fuel its velocity while she simply let go to ever so slightly nudge the blade into a deadly trajectory.

"Revan's dead," she reminded him as he slumped to the floor. Crouching over him she whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "She'll go back to her grave dragging Malak with her."

The red blade snapped off as she deactivated it and pulled the hilt out of the dead Sith Master's chest. After wiping the blood onto his already stained robes, she clipped it to her belt replacing the one destroyed by his lightning.

"That's the last of them," she said almost cheerfully to her companions. "Now, let's get this droid's data module back to the embassy."


	2. Carth

Carth made his way back to the _Ebon Hawk _under the watchful eye of one the Selkath Government's police droids. At least Sara had quietly acquiesced to the arrest and allowed herself to be taken into custody. He honestly hadn't been sure what she'd do. She easily could have dispatched the squad of droids sent to detain them.

Mission walked closely beside him. Sara's impressive display of Force lightning had dampened the girl's usually effervescent mood. "Hey, Carth?" she didn't lift her eyes from the floor. "Is Sara…I mean, well, is she?" the girl struggled to put her fears into words.

But Carth understood what she couldn't say. "I don't know Mission." He shook his head. "I hope not, but…"

"Yeah," she answered, "me too."

Carth put an arm protectively around her and for once the girl didn't complain about the fatherly gesture. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The hangar was already locked down when they arrived. Another of the police droids stood guard at the _Ebon Hawk's_ loading ramp. They were confined to the ship until Sara's trial or until she showed them the evidence they'd collected on the plan to initiate young Selkath into the Sith and conquer the planet from within. Perhaps that was why she allowed herself to be arrested; she knew it would only prove a slight delay.

Carth crept through the corridor to the port dormitories thankful he didn't meet anyone on the way and even more thankful the room was empty upon his arrival. The events in the Sith Embassy played over and over in his mind. Sara's words and her sickening smile were etched into his memory.

He'd seen that smile before, during the Mandalorian War on the faces of men who knew they were about to die. Their only goal became to take as many of the enemy as they could with them. Soldiers who shouldn't have been able to stand found the strength to charge with armed thermal detonators in hand. They clung to life solely for revenge. And Carth understood that sentiment far too well.

He shook the image from his mind with a conviction to relax until Sara returned from her trial. Leaning back on his bunk, he winced at the pain in his shoulder. A bruise was already blossoming from being Force pushed into the doorframe.

For that, at least, he could blame himself. As soon as he saw the Sith Master redirecting the blaster bolts toward her, he should have stopped firing. He might as well have just shot her in the back himself.

Before it was all over, Carth realized he might have to face that choice. If Sara fell, if Darth Revan returned, would he be able to stop her?

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Carth bolted up ignoring the sharp stab of pain that ripped through his shoulder. He hadn't even heard her come in, but she was there. Vivid blue eyes stared down at him from a blank face, her emotions hidden behind calm features. For a moment, he wasn't exactly sure what she was asking. Jedi could read minds and it was possible she knew what he'd been asking himself.

If she did, she gave no indication. "We have a submersible. Roland wants us to investigate his secret station and it looks like the last Star Map is involved." She knelt down to his level. "I know you don't want me running around secret Republic facilities without supervision. So, are you ready?"

Carth couldn't tell if there was anything hidden behind her sarcasm. "Let's go," he answered. He wished he could assure her that he still trusted her, but he just didn't know if that was true anymore.

As she rose to leave, he took her hand. "Sara," he began.

"I thought it was Revan," she cut him off harshly.

"My mistake," he muttered watching her walk away.

Grabbing his gear, he followed her.

For as long as he could, he would follow her.


	3. Canderous

Canderous kicked the white sand of the hidden world's beach. He squinted against the harsh light of the afternoon sun and scanned the horizon again for Revan. The old man and the Cathar had run after her over two hours ago.They should have been back already.

Initially, Mission had shared his watch. But the young girl thrived on conversation and acceptance and since he gave neither, she sought refuge back on the ship where Onasi and the Wookiee could coddle her.

The last Canderous knew Zaalbar had been working on getting the _Hawk _spaceworthy again. He could only assume the mechanic was still busily jury-rigging salvaged parts into the hyperdrive engines. Onasi was probably with him; although Canderous wasn't sure if that would be a help or a hindrance. Either would be preferable to the moping the Republic pilot had inflicted on them since leaving Manaan.

There were no secrets on a ship the size of the _Ebon Hawk_. Especially not with eight people crammed on board. Revan was using dark Force powers.

Good.

As far as he was concerned if the Sith felt like shooting lightning up his ass, Revan should sure as hell shoot it back at the bastards. A weapon is a weapon. If you're not prepared to use everything in your arsenal, you've got no place having one.

That had always been the Republic's problem. Their precious senate was too busy debating the ethics of war to fight one. They were cowards hiding behind the flimsy shelter of politics and morals. If not for Revan, they'd have been conquered. And now they wanted to debate the ethics of her as well.

Canderous shook his head. If they wanted to be fools, let them. He wasn't afraid to follow Revan. No matter where her path led. Light side, dark side. Republic, Sith. It didn't matter. He'd throw his lot in with Revan.

Over forty years of combat had honed his reflexes to near perfection. When he heard the loud metallic echo of a footfall on the landing ramp, his rifle snapped toward it before another step sounded. Two steps later, he knew it was the pilot. They were too heavy to be the girl and too sharp to be the Wookiee.

True to his deduction, Carth Onasi came into view. "Any sign of them?"

Canderous turned back toward the hill and resumed his watch. The man had eyes. He could see the answer for himself. But maybe he couldn't. When it came to Revan, Onasi acted blind.

She'd been spending a lot of time reviewing records of the Mandalorian and Sith Wars. She'd spent countless hours hearing Canderous's own stories. And while he spoke, he could see her mind working. Pieces of history blended with fragments of memory.

Canderous had a feeling she wasn't going to let something as powerful as the Star Forge be destroyed. Whatever scenarios Revan was constructing in her military mind would make full use of all resources. And the Star Forge was one hell of a resource.

There was no way Revan would unnecessarily sacrifice it. The station was hers before; let it be hers again.

"I thought they'd have been back by now," Carth ventured.

Canderous heard the hint of concern in the man's comment and knew Carth underestimated Revan. She could handle whatever was in that temple even without two Jedi trailing behind.

Revan had a score to settle with Malak. And Canderous knew better than to think that anything would get in her way. He only hoped that when they reached the Star Forge, there would be enough Dark Jedi to go around.

After all this standing around, he was itching for a good fight.


	4. Mission

"No! This can't be happening!" In the last two minutes Mission's world had turned completely upside down. Denial was the only thing that made any sense.

Carth was leaving and telling her to run too.

It had to be a nightmare. If she tugged on her lekku, she'd wake up and probably hit her head on the low bunk above hers. But that would be okay. She'd gladly trade in this insanity for a bruised forehead.

No, it was a drunken vision. Griff had always told her she was too young for Tarisian Ale. Maybe he was right. She'd found a bottle on the _Hawk_, downed it all in three large gulps and this horrible dream was her punishment. She was face down on the cargo bay deck, unconscious and most likely drooling. She'd wake up in a few hours with a horrible hangover. But that would be a fair trade too. Anything but this.

Really though, it was awfully hot on this crazy world. She was just delirious from too much sun. That had nearly happened on Tatooine. Trekking through the dune sea under the burning suns, she'd started to see the banthas prancing on their hind legs. Sara sent her back to the ship with Jolee and Zaalbar to cool off and calm down. It happened there, so why not here?

Mission could handle anything but the truth.

Sara was a good person. She'd rescued Griff and freed Zaalbar's village from the Czerka slavers. Sara wasn't Darth Revan. She just couldn't be.

And Bastila. You had to admit she could be a little snotty and annoying, but she wasn't so bad really. Not bad enough to turn to the dark side.

They just couldn't have. It wasn't possible. Sara and Bastila could not have fallen.

But they had.

The cold reality crashed through every theory Mission's mind desperately threw up in defense.

The women she'd loved as friends, as family were Sith.

It used to be fun to tease Bastila, to try to make her angry. Mission wouldn't dare now. The woman looked meaner than a rancor and twice as deadly.

And Sara wasn't Sara anymore. The once vivid blue eyes were glazed over and narrowed as if she'd never laughed before. Bastila might have been the one shouting orders and making proclamations, but anyone could see Sara, Revan now, was the one in charge.

Denial forced back the severity of the situation again. Sara wasn't really Darth Revan; she couldn't be.

"Follow Carth, Mission, we don't want you here. Go away." There was no emotion in Revan's voice, but the words alone were enough to give Mission hope.

Darth Revan would have just killed her. A real Sith Lord would never show mercy. Mission had learned that lesson well enough.

Sara was giving her a chance. The woman was practically begging to be rescued from turning into Darth Revan. If only Carth hadn't run away so fast, he could have helped. Now, it was up to Mission. She would rescue her friend from the dark side. She had to.

"You won't kill me." Her conviction in the words rang through. "I know you, Sara. You're not Revan and you won't hurt me. Not like this. Not if I don't attack you."

The Sith Lord shook her head. "You're wrong, Mission. Zaalbar, kill her."

The Wookiee refused and Mission gained a little more confidence. "Looks like you'll have to do your own dirty work."

"Fine. I'll kill you both." Mission flinched at the wrath that burned in Revan's eyes. But the woman's calm voice scared her even more.

Zaalbar roared and pushed her roughly behind him. Mission had never seen such rage from her usually reserved friend. She'd seen Wookiees angry before, but never like this.

She stumbled back, falling in the dirt at Canderous Ordo's feet. He slung his huge repeating blaster over his shoulder and nonchalantly turned his back on the battle ripping the crew apart.

Zaalbar had the advantage of height and strength and maybe even fury, but he didn't have the Force. Even an infuriated Wookiee was no match for two very powerful Sith.

Mission pulled herself up from the sand while Zaalbar fought before her. He was a giant, a hero eclipsing the sun. Bacca's blade crashed against lightsabers. Sparks flew as the weapons met again and again.

But by the time Mission regained her footing, Zaalbar was dead. The fur she had lovingly suggested combing was matted with grime and gore. Patches were scorched down to the flesh from the lightsabers blows. His blood oozed from partially cauterized wounds into the sand.

Mission fell back to her knees digging her finger into his fur. One last time, she buried her face against his chest. She knew then that she was about to die. But it was sure as a Hutt was ugly not going to be on her knees.

Slowly she let go and stood up. She retreated back until she felt the sun-warmed hull of the _Ebon Hawk_ against her shoulders. Zaalbar's sacrifice had given her clarity. Time crawled as her eyes captured every detail they could. Through her tears, Mission saw Revan callously step over her friend's body to reach her.

Beyond that she saw Bastila smugly crossing her arms. The woman's lips curled into a sadistically satisfied smile. Canderous was lighting a cigara probably impatient to get to the real fighting. If droids could grin, HK-47 was doing it. His metallic shoulders hunched slightly up as he snapped his weapon in a ready position. Only T3 seemed at all dejected. His dome tilted slightly to one side, main photo receptors pointed to the ground.

Beyond them all she saw Carth. Shielded behind a boulder at the top of a hill, he looked down on the gruesome scene. Mission could read the horror and sorrow in his face even over the distance. She guessed it was probably a reflection of her own. His hand was outstretched holding his blaster. She knew it was aimed at Revan.

"No," she screamed. Let them think she was begging for her life. It didn't matter anymore. As much as she didn't want to die, Mission wanted someone to rescue Sara even more.

She saw Carth's hand shake before he dropped his arm. Mission would never know if he heard her and stayed his hand or if he just couldn't do it.

"This can't be happening," she whimpered.

And Revan cut her down.


	5. Malak

A small asteroid tumbled through space. Its pock-marked surface slowly revolved about an uneven axis. Its flight sharply arced as an unseen hand scooped the rock from its innocent trajectory and deposited it neatly in the gaping maw of a massive space station.

The Star Forge would break the asteroid down into its basic elements, using them to fuel its accelerated construction of a Sith fleet. The team assigned to study the advanced technology of the station had yet to decipher if the mechanism of capture used a precision tractor beam or the magic of the Force. They would probably never know. But as long as it continued to function properly, it didn't really matter.

Smaller particles of debris hit the massive shields surrounding the station. Their impacts created iridescent patches in the usually elusive barrier. As Malak watched the display from the command deck he had a vague nagging feeling that he should have found it beautiful.

Of course, he didn't. A Sith Lord was not moved by such insignificant things. The sight of Revan's blood spilling out of her broken body was the only beautiful thing he was interested in now.

Revan.

It all came back to Revan. It always did. Even in the years at the Jedi Academy, his life had always been connected to hers.

He loved her at the enclave. He was her constant companion. Of all their tight circle, he was the only one who had her full confidence. She cried her tears of frustration at the Council's procrastination on his shoulder.

He bled for her in the Mandalorian Wars. Revan appeared nowhere without him by her side. She was too valuable to die on the battlefield and they all knew it. Malak undertook her security as his duty. Until her final duel with Mandalore, she'd never had cause to face an opponent alone.

He submitted to her when she declared herself a Sith Lord. What did he care for light or dark if Revan led the way? She had uncovered the ancient teachings from Masters Malak never knew and holocrons he never saw. Revan had always led, so he became her apprentice.

He despised her. She taught him too. Sith doctrine creates a hierarchy built on fear and hate. And lust for power. He was no longer her confidant, no longer privy to her secrets and strategies. He no longer saw the woman hidden behind a cold mask. When he heard rumors of a hidden Academy, he founded his own on Korriban. The defiance and presumption in the act cost him his jaw, but the school remained and prospered.

He killed her. Seizing his opportunity at power and revenge, he turned the fleet against her ship destroying not only Revan, but the Jedi strike team sent after them. At least, that's what he had believed until mere months ago.

And she haunted him from her supposed grave. In every meter of space the Republic Fleet reclaimed from his control, Revan mocked him. She was in the main computer of the Star Forge when it spoke to him in languages he couldn't understand or ignored him for days at a time. He could hear her cruel laugh every time he smelled the sweet scent of food he could never taste again. Revan was there when he bedded Bastila. Whether from the women's bond or just his own mind, it was Revan's brilliant blue eyes he saw staring up at him.

She was close enough now to sense through the Force. He felt the cold black vengeance that chilled her presence. He even felt fresh death about her and idly wondered if any of her own crew were part of the carnage. He knew her dark side too well to think that any of his own agents were left on the Rakatan surface. Except perhaps Bastila, but she was no longer his.

He felt Revan approach. Every moment he wasted staring into space and his own memories brought her nearer. It was as it should be. Their united fates demanded a final confrontation. Revan would gain access to the Star Forge and find him, no matter what obstacles he threw in her way. They may delay her arrival, but they would never stop it. She'd risen from the grave at least once to strike back at him. Nothing would prevent their reunion now.

Malak caressed the long hilt of his double-bladed lightsaber. Let her come. He was ready. Ever since their interrupted battle in the belly of the _Leviathan _he had longed for it.

Revan would come to him. And she would die. Malak would destroy her so completely that there would be no chance of another staged resurrection.

But that's not what happened. As Malak and Revan fought in the belly of the Star Forge, the station chose its champion.

Malak felt the power shift. One moment the awe-inspiring fury of the station's dark side coursed through is veins and the next, it was gone. He was stripped of the additional power he'd enjoyed since Revan's alleged demise and left with only the adrenaline rush of combat.

It wasn't enough. Even had the Star Forge not bestowed its cruel powers on Revan, he still would have been defeated. She was simply too determined. She fought without reservation, with no concern for her own survival. As long as Malak died first, her fate didn't matter. Except to the expansionistic ambitions of the station.

As Malak lay dying he looked to the future he would never live to see. He saw Revan with the galaxy on its knees before her. A never-ending fleet of ships would crowd the space of every star system. The appetite of the Star Forge would be appeased by a constant supply of Jedi sacrifice. The glory of the Infinite Empire and the domination of the ancient Sith would be reborn in her dark reign.

Unless another hero rose to stop her, the resurrection of Revan would be the death of the Republic.


End file.
